


Assassin's Academy

by andr0meda_c1rce



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chaotic Dick Grayson, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate Humor, Jason Todd is So Done, Lots of bad flirting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andr0meda_c1rce/pseuds/andr0meda_c1rce
Summary: Jason Todd infiltrates Gotham's Assassin Academy to take down Bruce WayneORThe one in which Jason Todd, unstoppable force, meets immovable object, Dick Grayson
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	1. Alarm

It’s Jason’s first night in his new bed when he realises, _really_ realises just how thin the walls are. 

Thin enough, that despite his very best efforts to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face in his pillow, he can still hear the soft murmurs from the room next door, low and _dirty,_ punctuated by the whine of bedsprings and the muted noise of a headboard hitting the wall at his back. _Thump, thump, thump._

He rolls onto his back, scrubbing a hand down his face. There’s a sliver of pale light creeping in around the edges of his blackout curtains and a quick peek at his phone confirms the time. Four hours. It isn’t great, but he’s operated on less.

His fingers trace along the length of the bed frame, checking for the knives he’d stowed against the mattress, counting the first, then the second.

His guns are still on the desk where he’d left them too, barrels smooth and polished, aligned neatly with an assortment of casings and rubber bullets, and he makes a mental note to store them away somewhere…less on the nose. The loose slot in the ceiling panel looks pretty promising. But first, coffee. God, he really needs some coffee. 

There’s a mini electric kettle in the common room and a box of cappuccino sachets, the cheap budget brand stuff that has that weird charcoal-y aftertaste. Jason wrinkles his nose, figures what the hell, and flicks on the kettle, filling it with water, before rifling through the cupboards for a mug.

“There’s paper cups in the drawer to your left.”

He twists in one quick motion, one hand snatching out in the direction of the voice and finding purchase in a sweatshirt collar.

The owner of the voice stares wide-eyed at Jason’s other hand, curled into a fist, mere inches from the tip of his nose. “Holy shit,” he breathes out, voice sounding high and tinny.

Jason blinks down at him. Once. Twice.

Eyes, sharp blue and _electric,_ flick up to meet his and Jason jolts, pushing back to put space between them. “Are you _trying_ to get yourself punched in the face, kid?”

“Sorry,” the boy says after a moment’s pause. He blinks up at Jason owlishly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jason’s eyes narrow, words sharp and biting, “You didn’t.”

The boy’s lips twitch. “Right, of course. Just _startled_ then.”

The muscles in Jason’s jaw clench tighter, and yep the asshole is definitely smiling. “No.”

“Uh huh,” the sharp gleam in his eyes is burning bright now.

Jason ignores it in favour of stalking back towards the sink, pulling open the drawer beneath it and sure enough, there’s a row of red paper cups, nestled in torn plastic wrapping. He picks one out, silently urging the kettle to work faster.

“I’m Tim, by the way.”

Jason peers at him from the corner of his eye, saying nothing.

He’s rocking nervously on his feet, hands hovering awkwardly over his hips, reaching up to run through his hair before falling back down again. “I heard you get up and I was already awake, so I thought…introductions,” he trails off lamely.

God, Talia would eat him alive. Jason grins inwardly, imagining the kid in the same room as his mentor. He wouldn’t last ten seconds.

Jason lets the silence stew, long enough for it to turn uncomfortable and then some. The kettle pings, and he fills up his cup, emptying in a sachet before taking a slow sip, and then another. Tim swallows hard, mouth working open every few seconds then falling shut again.

Jason lets himself relish in it. Then finally, “I’m Jason.”

“I know.”

The hand around his coffee cup tightens and Jason feels the familiar coil of unease tug in his stomach. “Excuse me?”

Tim wets his lips. The nervousness is back again.

Jason’s scowl deepens and it seems to trigger something as Tim sucks in a breath, then like a dam that’s been cut loose, the words come spilling out. “You’re Jason Peter Todd. New transfer from Ra’s al Ghul’s League of Assassins, 3.84 GPA, no criminal record, but because of your schooling history you’ve been placed on immediate academic probation.”

The statements are rattled off one after the other, and it takes Jason some time to pull the scrambled pieces in his head together long enough to form a coherent sentence. “How the _fuck,”_ he bites out passionately, “do you know all that?”

“It was in your student files.”

 _Student files._ The words ring in his ears. “And how the _hell_ did you get access to those?”

“I hacked into the database.”

“What?”

Tim seems to mistake Jason’s silence as wonder, and there’s a little bit of that too, but mostly it’s just shock. Scratch that, his mind feels like it’s buffering. When he finally has enough sense to _say something_ , it comes out as a sort of half-croak, “ _How?”_

Tim shrugs, looking a tad bit embarrassed, “It wasn’t that hard?”

Jason knows he isn’t the world’s greatest IT whiz. Nonetheless, he likes to believe his tech skills are somewhat competent. But hacking into the academy’s student files? That’s a whole other ballpark.

Gotham academy has security encryption that rivals the CIA’s personal encoding methods and this kid had just confessed to cracking them wide open like a walnut. And okay, maybe that makes Jason a little nervous. More than a little nervous. Makes him wonder what other files the kid’s been snooping around in, what else he knows. 

Jason glances carefully at Tim who returns his stare, unassuming.

There’s also the possibility that Jason’s just overthinking things. Because if Tim had hacked into _all_ of Jason’s files, he’d know _everything_ and right now, Jason would most likely be in orange overalls, locked behind Arkham Asylum’s bars. But he’d clearly been doing some digging. Which leaves Jason with the question - how much _does_ Tim know?

He leans back, elbows resting against the countertop, and says in a tone that he hopes is more casual than inquisitive, “Anything else I should know about, stalker?”

Tim’s expression twists unpleasantly at the nickname. “Ha,” a small, strangled laugh, “You probably think I’m a complete weirdo.”

“Well, obviously.” Jason takes another sip of his coffee. “But I also think you’re pretty smart,” and he means it. 

Something about that must show in his face because the corners of Tim’s mouth lift up a little into a sort of half-smile. “Oh.” Then, “Thanks.”

There’s silence again, but it’s not awkward, or tense this time. It’s nice.

Tim swipes up a discarded coffee cup from the centre table and joins Jason’s place at the counter, gesturing in question at the cappuccino sachets, “You mind if I-?”

“Sure.”

Jason waits until Tim’s emptied the kettle, then re-fills it, placing it back on the stand.

“So,” says Tim, his cup’s more than halfway empty already, “What are you doing up so early?”

Jason grimaces, eyes unwittingly going to the closed door beside his room. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Tim follows his line of sight, letting out a knowing hum. “That loud?”

“You have no idea.”

That both refill their cups.

“That’s Roy,” Tim says after a few moments. “He has a girlfriend. Kory.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Tim snorts into his cup and the sound prompts the corners of Jason mouths to tip up in return.

“He mentors for the Weapons Training class, so you’ll probably meet him soon enough.”

“Of course you’ve memorised my time-table.” He lets a beat of silence pass. “Stalker.”

Tim shoves lightly against Jason’s arm. “Stop calling me that.” A huff. “And you’re an interesting case, okay. We don’t really get, well, _any_ transfers from Ra’s. Makes for a…unique study.”

Jason’s well aware of that, of the ongoing rivalry between the League of assassins and Gotham academy, the distrust and tension that brews there.

Just because Tim’s being nice doesn’t mean Jason’s dumb enough to assume everyone else is going to be just as tolerant. Regardless, Jason has to admit, the kid’s growing on him.

He knocks Tim’s shoulder with his own, letting a hint of teasing creep into his words, “Aw sweetheart, you think I’m _special?”_

The way the skin flushes red across Tim’s nose and cheeks is comical. Jason catches the tail end of his grumble, “Special _needs._ ”

He ruffles a hand through Tim’s hair in response, leaving it stuck up in a dozen different directions. “Careful stalker, you’re talking to a goon from Ra’s al Ghul’s big bad League of Assassins.”

Tim makes a face, unimpressed, attempting to smooth down the unruly nest on his head, then when he realises it doesn’t seem to be helping he lets out a resigned sigh, staring longingly at his empty coffee cup and then back at the pitcher.

“I need more coffee.”

Jason makes a sympathetic noise, “How many hours you running on, kid?”

Tim’s response is mumbled under his breath. Jason holds a hand up to his ear, “What was that?”

“None, really.” Then he pauses thoughtfully, “Unless relapsing into a brief moment of blackout counts?”

“It most certainly doesn’t.” Jason tips his coffee cup towards him, “You have problems.”

Tim makes a non-committal noise.

The sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows has lightened, slices of blue and grey peeking out from under dark covers across the horizon.

Jason drains the rest of his coffee before tossing the cup into the bin. “It’s been fun, kid.” He ruffles another hand through Tim’s hair, ignoring the vicious string of protests. “But there’s a to-do list waiting with my name on it.”

Tim bats at his hand, raising a stern brow, which combined with the tufts of hair sticking out brazenly at awkward angles, makes for a pretty funny picture all together. “Really. Like what?”

“The usual. Territories to mark. Crime lords to torment. Drug dealers to maim.” He gives a rakish smile to which Tim rolls his eyes.

He’s not completely lying, the territory part is somewhat true anyway. He still has a few hours before his first class and there’d been an alcove situated above the academy library that he’d been itching to scope out.

He pauses on the way to his door, half turning as he points a finger at Tim, “And stalker, get some sleep, you look like shit.”

He grins and ducks into his room, dodging the empty paper cup Tim launches at his head.


	2. Gotta love Dick

“Fight, fight, fight.”

In hindsight, Jason probably should have seen this coming. But for the record, he wasn’t the one who’d started it.

The taller guy had approached him first, all swagger and sharp teeth, typical, run-of-the-mill crook with a prison-style buzzcut and hulking frame, spitting insults and making vague threats which Jason had pleasantly told him to shove up his ass.

Then his partner had shown up, arched brows pulling at the edges of his eyes, making them appear meaner, _beady,_ his dark hair fashioned into _horns_ on either side of his head. And Jason just hadn’t been able to help himself, _“The devil called. He’s suing for copyright.”_

Yeah, that hadn’t gone down well.

Jason ducks as Buzzcut charges again, the swing narrowly missing his face and ruffling the hairs at the top of his head. He’s barely rolled to his knees when he feels Buzzcut’s thick arms curl around his throat, corded muscle digging hard against his adam’s apple as he squeezes. “Not feeling so cocky now, huh.”

Pushing his head back to ease the pressure on his windpipe, Jason wedges his fingers into the crook of Buzzcut’s elbow, wiggling his hand into the space there and rolling forward, using the momentum to hurl him over his head. Buzzcut drops hard on his knees and Jason lands a savage kick to his ribcage, grinning viciously, “I’m feeling just peachy, sweetheart.”

There’s thick blood running down Jason’s chin and he wipes at it with the back of his hand, turning to catch Devil-boy prowling low around his other side. There’s twin batons twirling in his hand, glinting mean and malicious where they catch the sun. Fuck. He’s _really_ starting to miss his shiv right about now.

“I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face, _rat_.”

Jason lowers into a defensive stance, rolling his shoulders, “So do it.”

He propels forward and Jason spins under his arm, missing the first swing. The crowd that had formed at the start of the fight surges, and he feels someone press forward at his back, kicking his leg out from under him.

It’s a simple slip, his attention wavering for a split second, and the second baton catches him across the cheek. He’s barely drawn in half a breath when he feels another hit come down over his head and Jason stumbles, off-balanced by the force of it.

He’s shaking off spots in his vision when he feels someone shove lightly at his shoulder, pushing into the space in front of him. “Woah, that’s enough, Wotan. Back off!”

“Harper.”

Jason straightens slowly from his hunched position, ears still ringing, to see Devil-boy’s face crumpled into a dark glare as he regards the redhead standing between him and Jason, “We just want to show him the ropes, Harper. So, move on along.”

“Hmmm,” _Harper_ hums thoughtfully, and Jason can see just enough of his face to see his jaw tick, “Yeah, no.”

Wotan flexes his fingers around the batons, and opens his mouth to reply but Harper holds up a hand, cutting him off, “Look Wotan, if you and _Clayface_ ,” the redhead shoots a scornful glance at Buzzcut’s crumpled form , “have a problem with the new kid, you can take it up with Bruce.”

Instead of backing down, Wotan clicks his tongue, his smile crooked and all sorts of wrong, “Step away Arrow Boy, you’re outnumbered.” And Jason knows he isn’t bluffing. Can see it in the way several of the students circle closer, shifting to form a tight ring around them.

“What’s going on here?”

A woman pushes to the front of the crowd, steel gaze circling the gathered students. Jason’s immediate thought is that this is someone he does _not_ want to cross.

There’s a powerful strength to the way she holds herself, and despite her small frame, her presence is domineering, filling the space around her and making the students closest to her shrink inwardly.

Her brows draw together when her eyes land on Wotan, accentuating the sharp frown at her mouth, and for the first time, something resembling discomfort flashes across Wotan’s face.

“What is going on here?” she repeats, slower, voice dropping.

“Dinah,” Harper sings with familiarity, addressing the woman and drawing her attention. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

Dinah’s returning expression is less friendly, eyes flaring as she looks over Roy’s shoulder at Jason, no doubt taking in his bloody lip and nose, the gash on his forehead and the bruise he can feel starting to form on his cheek. Then her gaze flicks back to Wotan and her expression hardens.

She addresses Harper, propping both hands on her hips. “Bruce’s office. Now.”

“You’re not in trouble,” and it’s the first time Harper’s directly acknowledging him, half-turning to throw Jason a quick wink, “It’s just procedure.”

“ _Now_ , Roy.”

Harper, _Roy_ , offers her a two-finger salute, “Yes Ma’am.”

Jason stumbles after him, massaging the ache at the side of his jaw as he peers up at the redhead. “Wait, you’re Roy? As in my roommate?” As in the guy whose sex life he knew way more about than he’d ever need or want to.

Roy flashes him a grin, eyes sparkling, “The one and only.” A chuckle. “Sorry about last night,” and he doesn’t really sound sorry at all. “Now, let’s go get you sorted out before Dinah bites my head off.”

…

The front desk is empty when they get there, ‘ _lunch break,’_ Roy informs him, and aside from the two of them, the waiting area is empty.

“You just need to fill out this health and safety form. Only the first two pages. The last one’s for admin.”

Roy slides the sheets towards Jason, “It’s just protocol,” and leans over the counter, plucking a ballpoint from the pen holder and holding it out to Jason.

“I’m going to duck in and see Bruce,” he points a thumb towards a door right at the end of the waiting room foyer. If Jason squints he can just make out the letters on the bronze door plate, _‘Bruce Wayne, Headmaster_.’

“Do you have any questions?”

“Uh, no.” Jason rubs the back of his neck, half-smiling, then winces at the sting in his split lip. “Thanks, by the way.”

Roy shrugs, giving him a quick pat on the side of the arm, “Don’t worry about it, man.”

Jason shifts, “Not just that.”

The corner of Roy’s mouth quirks up, and he nods again, slower this time, eyes dancing. “Like I said. Don’t worry about it.” And then he pads past Jason down the foyer, the soft click of a door shutting behind him, then silence.

Jason releases a long breath, slumping against the counter and letting his forehead fall against the cool laminate top.

First day at Gotham Academy. Fuck. What a shitshow. Was it really only lunch? It felt like days had passed since he’d talked to Tim. Jason kinda’ misses him. The kid was a little weird, and okay maybe borderline scary with his stalking Jason and hacking into the database thing. But fuck, he’d been nice.

Jason had known, going into this, that yeah, day one wasn’t going to be the easiest. There were a lot of people that hated him, hated Ra’s al Ghul. He just hadn’t counted on how _much._ Hadn’t counted on making it onto _Buzzcut_ and _Devil-brats_ (and possibly every other person in the school’s) personal kill list barely twelve hours into the day.

He was supposed to lay low. Get familiar with the inner workings of the academy, work under the radar and be _discreet_. _Fuck._ Talia was going to kill him. No, she was probably going to let Slade kill him, or maybe they’d kill him together in the spirit of team bonding. Talia had always been fond of team bonding. Holy shit, he was so screwed.

He groans, banging his head against the countertop.

There’s a low whistle, “That looks like it hurt.”

Jason startles, head flying up, and wonders how he’d somehow managed not to hear the living, breathing, 5”10 something male, approach. The guy’s leaning against the counter, less than an arms-length from Jason, his mouth split into a wide grin, showing off a set of pearly whites straight out of a toothpaste commercial.

His brow is raised, as if in question and _fuck,_ he’d said something to him, Jason realises, mind fumbling. 

“Uh, what?”

The guy looks like he’s trying not to laugh. He shifts to rest an elbow on the countertop, the corners of his mouth twitching, “You look like you got into a fight with a thorn bush. And lost, by the way.”

Jason blinks at him slowly. Is he making fun of him?

He takes in the soft curve of his mouth, the laugh lines around his eyes, eyes that are startlingly blue and even brighter than his smile, dancing in a way that’s playful. _Flirtatious,_ even and _…_ oh. _Oh._

Jason feels the tension at his shoulders ease, and he finds himself tipping his head back to show off a lazy smile off his own, “You should see the other guy.”

The guy does laugh then, the sound easy and warm, and Jason feels his chest loosen with it.

“Is he as articulate as you, too?” And okay, that one warrants a comeback.

Jason tips his chin up, eyes narrowing in mock-indignation, “You’re an awful charmer, sweetheart.”

The smile at his mouth stretches even wider, if that were even possible, and then he ducks his head, peeking up at Jason from beneath his lashes in a way that shoots heat straight to his groin. “Who says I’m trying to charm you.”

“Aren’t you?”

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and Jason can hear the blood pounding in his ears as he follows the movement. It should be cheesy, but fuck, Jason feels like this guy could punch him in the face and he’d think it was hot.

“That depends. Is it working?”

“I don’t know. The part about the thorn bush was a little bit of a turn-off.”

The guy pouts: bottom lip stuck out, brows scrunched, proper pouting, and the lip-bite has _nothing_ on this. Jason barely resists the urge to roll back his head and groan because _fuck,_ how was this guy even real? 

“Fine. Why don’t we try this again?”

Jason nods firmly, making a go-ahead gesture.

The guy takes the opportunity to slide closer to Jason, winking lewdly, “So baby, you come here often.”

Jason groans, “God, _nope_. No. That’s even worse.”

The guy’s laughing before Jason’s finished. It’s the same easy laughter as before, and this time Jason can’t help but join in.

“I’m Jason, by the way.”

“I’m Dick.”

“Fuck, of course you are.”

Dick rolls his eyes skyward, exasperated, and maybe a little amused. Jason like to think so. 

He motions towards Jason’s face, “So, what happened?”

“Got jumped.”

Dick clicks his tongue, “First day? That’s rough.”

“I like it rough.”

“You’re awful.”

Jason flashes teeth, “Yeah, probably.”

Dick shakes his head softly, then pauses, mouth working over nothing, before he says slowly, as if picking out the words one by one, “If you want, I can have a look at that for you,” he says, nodding at the gash at his temple, and then pointing to his cheek, “And give you something for the swelling too.”

Jason should say no. He’s fixed himself up plenty of times before, and he can tell the gash isn’t too deep, it’s already stopped bleeding. He should just say no. “Sure.”

And when Dick’s face lights up, Jason knows he’s said the right thing.

“Okay, cool, let me just grab the first-aid kit.” Dick walks around the counter, pulling open one of the desk drawers and shaking the safety-kit victoriously when he sees Jason watching. “Found it.”

Jason props himself up onto the counter edge, swinging his legs, “Great. I’m all yours, nurse.”

Dick gives him a wry glance, but smiles, nonetheless, pulling out a strip of gauze and a small bottle of saline solution. He wets the strip, and then he’s stepping in between Jason’s thighs, and Jason feels his brain short-circuit.

“You good?” And all Jason can do is nod, even as he feels the wires in his head explode, flashing error messages and termination warnings, _‘Jason.exe has stopped working.’_

Dick is _so_ damn close, warm breath fluttering across Jason’s jaw as he leans in, brow furrowed in concentration as he presses the gauze gently against his temple.

His mouth is slightly parted, and Jason’s hit with the very sudden, obtrusive thought about how those lips would look wrapped around his – _No._ Nope. Not going down _that_ train of thought right now.

“There you go, you’re cut is all patched up,” and Jason releases a long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Okay, great, thanks,” and makes to stand, only to have Dick put a hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place.

“Woah, hold on, let me just clean up the blood-”

Jason’s breath stutters, “No, it’s fine. I’m good. This is fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dick frowns, chastising, “It’ll only take a moment,” and then he steps back between Jason’s thighs, and it’s all Jason can do to hold back his whimper.

Jason keeps his gaze resolutely down as Dick cleans the blood over his nose and chin, and one moment he’s glaring down at the linoleum floor, the next he’s staring up at Dick’s thighs, then higher, gaze skimming over his hips, and when Dick turns to grab a new strip of gauze, it gives him direct line of sight to Dick’s ass. And wow, it’s a _really_ _nice_ ass, and he wonders if it _feels_ as nice as it looks, and suddenly Jason’s possessed with the abrupt, animalistic urge to grab Dick by the hips, pin him against the counter and find out.

Jason jerks when he feels the pads of Dick’s fingers smooth over his chin, and then, across Jason’s bottom lip, as Dick rubs ointment across the cut there, and Jason goes absolutely still, because if he moves, he’s pretty sure he’s going to push Dick down and fuck him right there on the countertop.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting kinda’ weird.”

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” and god, he sounds absolutely wrecked.

Dick smiles, small and hesitant, like he doesn’t really believe him, and ducks his head to pack away the gauze and saline, and like this Jason can smell his shampoo, something sweet and earthy and Jason’s heady with it, with the scent of him, feels like he’s drowning and floating at the same time.

And then Dick turns back, giving him that dazzling grin Jason’s come to associate with him, his thigh pressing against Jason’s, right against his erection, and then Dick goes absolutely still, smile freezing in place.

_Fuck._

“Is there something in your pocket or-”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that fucking sentence,” Jason growls, feeling heat creep up his neck.

Dick purses his lips, evidently trying to hold back laughter and doing a piss poor job of it.

After this, Jason is going to find the nearest brick wall, he decides, and smash his head against it as hard as he can.

And then, because things can always get worse, as the universe regularly likes to remind him, Roy takes that moment to amble out.

The moment he sees Dick, his mouth tips up into a smile, _“Dick.”_ And of course they _fucking_ _know each other_ , because Jason just _can’t_ seem to catch a fucking break.

“Roy.”

Then his gaze swings to Jason, taking in his twisted mouth, brows drawn low, and his own brow raises in question. “You look constipated.” Roy slings a lazy arm across Jason’s shoulders, eyes bouncing from him to Dick, and then back again, taking in Jason’s, probably, very red cheeks, the way he’s bent over, arms covering his crotch, and it’s like the clouds clearing on a sunny day. 

A knowing smirk pops up and Jason wants to punch it right off his face. “Dickie here giving you a _hard_ time?” Cocky fucker.

Dick’s chest is shaking with silent laughter. “I’ve been nothing but pleasant, right Jay?”

“Aww _Jay,”_ Roy draws out the nickname, cooing, “cute,” and god Jason doesn’t need to see his face to know that it’s approaching dangerous, lobster-red territory.

“Stop it Roy, you’re embarrassing him.” They both snicker and Jason grinds down on his teeth, shoving the redhead off his back and stalking down the hallway. 

“Fantastic, you’ve gone and pissed off the princess Dickie, nice going.”

There’s the sound of shoes slapping against linoleum as Roy jogs to catch up with him. “Hey, _Jay,_ wait, _wait._ ”

Roy swings an arm around his shoulders when he’s close enough, mouth pulled back into a Cheshire cat grin, “Shit, Jaybird, didn’t mean to upset you. C’mon say something, I promise not to talk about Dickie, pinky swear.”

Jason glares at the pinkie finger Roy’s holding out towards him, “Fuck you, Harper,”

“That’s more like it,” and Jason shoves lightly at Roy’s side, shaking his head.

“Say, did you end up filling out that form?” Roy waggles his eyebrows, “Or did you get too distracted.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Roy curses, banging into his shoulder.

 _Fuck._ The fucking form. He’d completely forgotten about it.

The expression on his face must be pretty telling because the next moment Roy’s loud laughter is ringing off the walls in the empty hallway. “Oh, _Jay_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why, but I was a delirious train-wreck while I wrote this, and for some reason couldn’t stop laughing the entire time through, which is what happens when you’re sleep-deprived and try to write very late at night. This chapter kinda' ended up being wayyyy longer than I expected and I think I may have gotten a little swept up in the chaotic energy but it's fine. Everything's fine.


End file.
